


i can sell you lies

by andnowforyaya



Series: tesselate [1]
Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Rough Sex, Scenting, Sex, Violence, okay but the sex isn't that graphic sorry, tiny throwaway line about rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:38:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a boy down in the basement level of the club whose eyes flash silver in the strobe lights, whose nails are sharp behind Youngjae's neck and at his hips where the friction between them is sweetest. The music strips them down to their heartbeats and their breaths and Youngjae is caught by the wild, spicy scent on the other's skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can sell you lies

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: hi lovely! I was wondering if you could please do a wolf!daejae? or fem!daejae? I've read a lot of BangHim ones but have yet to find any of daejae. coming from you it would make it that much more amazing! Please? Thank you <333
> 
> \--
> 
> sorry this might be a little weird. orz
> 
> i tried. ;; hope you enjoy
> 
> i was also listening to [this on repeat](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJ5LaPyzaj0) while writing.

There's a boy down in the basement level of the club whose eyes flash silver in the strobe lights, whose nails are sharp behind Youngjae's neck and at his hips where the friction between them is sweetest. The music strips them down to their heartbeats and their breaths and Youngjae is caught by the wild, spicy scent on the other's skin.

"Never seen you around before," Youngjae shouts into his ear, barely able to hear his own thoughts, mind swirling from the cocktails they'd had at the bar and from the pulsing, thumping beat.

The boy says something, too. 

Youngjae watches his lips form the words, but can't make them out. He cards his fingers through the other's thick black hair and grips. "What?" 

The boy leans into the tight hold, smirking. "Just passing through," he says, right against Youngjae's ear.

.

In the morning he wakes up naked and sticky and hot and irritable; his bed feels like a furnace and his legs are tangled in his sheets. The body behind him is heavy and near immovable. Youngjae curls away from him, and props himself up onto his elbows, eyes dropping to the sleeping form on his small bed.

He's got full lips and high cheekbones and a little dot under his left eye, his black hair unruly and thick and furling over his ears.

 _Daehyun_ , Youngjae remembers. He hadn't given a last name. 

Youngjae reaches out and threads his fingers through the sleeping boy's hair, chuckling to himself when Daehyun makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat and pushes himself up on the pillow to allow Youngjae better access. His eyelids flutter open.

Daehyun's eyes are not silver. Must have been a trick of the light.

"Good morning," Youngjae mutters, voice still rough from sleep.

The boy stretches, full-bodied and lazy, his back arching in Youngjae's bed and arms coming up to rest against the headboard. "Good morning," he growls, because that is the only way to describe the noise that drops from his lips, deeper than Youngjae remembered, and gritty.

Youngjae feels his toes curl under the sheets. He wonders if Daehyun knows Youngjae can feel his voice in the small, delicate bones of his fingers. He exhales. "Would you like some coffee?" 

Daehyun smiles up at him, wide and uninhibited. "Only if it comes with breakfast," he says.

.

It happens like that, slow and easy. Youngjae wakes up in the mornings and goes to the bookstore where he works around the corner from his place, and he comes home in the afternoons and tries to read his texts for grad school, and sometimes he will even try to finish that paper that's due at the end of the month. 

He gets lunch with his friends. He half-heartedly tidies his apartment.

He waits for Daehyun's call.

It's always a different number. "I'm not the best at keeping track of my phone," Daehyun had said. "It's better if I just call you."

Youngjae tries not to think about the dynamics at play here, about how Daehyun could be keeping him on the end of a leash. 

He answers Daehyun's calls and they go to nice restaurants in areas of the city that Youngjae rarely ever steps foot in, and they have three-hour long dinners and Daehyun pays, he always pays, and sometimes they go back to Youngjae's or sometimes they go back to whichever hotel Daehyun is staying in for the night, and when they wake up in the mornings Youngjae is warm and sleepy and wishes he could bottle this feeling that lingers in his gut, like a kitten curled up in the sun, because he knows how fleeting it is.

Daehyun wakes up after him and noses the back of Youngjae's neck and presses kisses along his spine and breathes in, deep and long and full, like he's trying to remember Youngjae's scent, and then he mouths at Youngjae's shoulder and turns him over and licks a long stripe from Youngjae's collarbone to his jawline, and he presses his face into the spot behind Youngjae's ear.

It was a little weird, at first. 

Daehyun likes licking and nipping and doing really embarrassing things like putting his nose in Youngjae's armpit and breathing, but Youngjae's had weirder and hardly any of that matters when Daehyun is pumping into him and holding his teeth against Youngjae's throat, after they climax and Daehyun drags his fingers through the spunk on Youngjae's belly and then sucks those fingers into his mouth, when Daehyun sinks lower and licks at the hot, sensitive skin of Youngjae's hole.

Youngjae comes again, weaker than the first time but just as sensational, to the rough pad of Daehyun's tongue.

.

He shuffles back to bed with two mugs of coffee and Daehyun is up, sitting against the headboard and legs splayed, naked and comfortable, sheets bunched to the end of the mattress. His phone is in his hand. Today, it is an older model, almost brick-like compared to Youngjae's, with clunky buttons.

Youngjae puts the coffees on the bedside table and slithers back into bed, his head coming to rest on Daehyun's lean thigh. "What's up," he asks, glancing at the phone. He reaches and pulls the covers back up, over his waist and over Daehyun's lower legs.

"My brother Himchan is wondering where I am," Daehyun answers, scratching at his head. "He's worried."

"You have a brother?" Mindlessly, Youngjae starts to trace circles into the meaty part of Daehyun's thigh under his cheek. He watches goosebumps raise in the skin. "Is that why you're just passing through? You're going to go visit him?"

"Sure," Daehyun says noncommittally, shrugging. The mattress squeaks a little at the movement.

"Where is he?" Youngjae presses.

"Midwest," Daehyun mumbles. "He's waiting for me. He's the only real family I have left, you know? He has a job out there for me, and it would be - safe."

Daehyun exhales, and his breath shakes. His phone buzzes in his hand from a text message.

Youngjae stops tracing circles with his finger, turns his face and presses a kiss on the top of Daehyun's thigh. "Safe from what?"

He doesn't expect an answer, and Daehyun doesn't give one.

.

Days pass and Daehyun calls and Youngjae answers. He starts to linger for longer, the mornings after, and to leave marks on Youngjae's pale skin.

"I'll stop if you want me to," Daehyun growls against his neck, cock hard and slick inside Youngjae, his fingers pressing into Youngjae's ribs, red crescents where his fingernails dig into the skin.

"I don't want you to stop," Youngjae gasps back, and Daehyun bites, his teeth sinking into Youngjae at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, Youngjae's body reacting immediately, winding tight like a cord about the snap, and Daehyun groans, hips pumping as Youngjae claws up Daehyun's back, as he leaves marks of his own, desperate, hoping they take a long time to fade.

.

Daehyun wakes up first. He never wakes up first. He's got his cellphone (new again, today, and much sleeker) to his ear and he's whispering quietly, frantically, into it. 

Youngjae hears him say, "I don't need you looking out for me, Himchan," before Daehyun rolls out of bed and steps out into the common area, shutting the door softly behind him and leaving Youngjae alone, sun streaming in through the slits in his slotted shades, dust motes in the beams as he debates following him out there, as he wonders how Daehyun would react if he brought his blankets out with him and sat next to him on the couch and laid his head in his lap while Daehyun spoke with his brother.

Thoughts like these scare Youngjae, make his heart beat with a little more speed in its cage. 

Daehyun is not a constant. No matter how solid Daehyun is existing next to him there is the knowledge that some day soon he will exist somewhere else, and Youngjae feels this when he sees the impersonal hotel rooms Daehyun books for a few nights at a time, Daehyun's single duffel bag, his leather jacket that smells like the forest.

Daehyun is running, Youngjae believes. From what, he doesn't know. 

Youngjae is a pit stop.

He drags his blankets out, anyway. 

It's the height of winter and his apartment doesn't have the best heating system, and Daehyun looks up at him from his seat on Youngjae's couch, his phone in his hand, and doesn't protest when Youngjae leans into him and mumbles in his ear, "It's cold in the bed without you."

He thinks of nights when Daehyun doesn't call. On those nights he can't sleep without bringing out his extra comforter and smothering himself in that stuffy warmth.

Daehyun wraps an arm around Youngjae's shoulders, and then he shifts them both until Youngjae is laying across his chest and their legs are lined up like puzzle pieces fit together. 

Youngjae hears Daehyun's heart beating through the thin material of his t-shirt, curls his fingers there and tries to capture the sound.

"I need to go," Daehyun whispers. "I have to leave, but I don't want to."

"Daehyun," Youngjae says into the fabric of his shirt. "Are you in trouble?"

Daehyun says nothing.

Youngjae sighs, and he listens as Daehyun's heart thumps steadily in his chest. "If you stayed, what would happen? Would it be worth it?"

There are fingers in his hair, scratching against his scalp. Youngjae turns into the touch, follows when Daehyun taps his cheek and asks for his lips, and they kiss in the dry, white light of the morning. 

"I'm starting to think so," Daehyun says.

.

Daehyun calls and when they wake up in the mornings Daehyun doesn't want to leave the bed, and there are dark circles under his eyes and a slump in his shoulders, and he pulls Youngjae back in by the wrist and brings the covers up over them both, fits himself behind him and hooks his chin over Youngjae's shoulder.

On one of these mornings Youngjae turns in bed and cradles Daehyun's head to his chest and drags his fingers through Daehyun's hair, and their breathing evens as Daehyun wraps his arms around Youngjae's waist, content to be held. 

Youngjae murmurs into the other's hair, "What can I do to help?" And he inhales and Daehyun still reminds him of the forest, of the hiking trails he'd taken as a child, pine needles crunching underfoot and crisp, mountain air. 

"It's better for you if you don't get involved," Daehyun whispers into Youngjae's chest, his breath tickling at his skin. 

.

Youngjae doesn't get a call the next day. Or the next. 

He goes to work and comes home and makes dinners alone, or he meets up with the friends he's been neglecting and tries to smile through their conversations, but his mind races constantly, thinking about Daehyun, about the trouble he was running from, about his brother, about the possibility of Daehyun's body rotting somewhere in a dumpster in the city.

On that night he goes home and vomits up three drinks into his toilet, and he goes to sleep under two comforters with a dry, aching throat and pressure at his temples, and his skin tingles, sensitive and untouched.

It is near a week later that his phone vibrates with a text message from an unknown number.

_Come to Cafe Osteria tonight. 7pm. -Dae_

Youngjae stares at the message, but it doesn't take long for him to decide.

 _Okay_ , he writes back.

.

Cafe Osteria is a little sit-in in a dark block of the city, and Youngjae approaches with his keys in one hand and his phone in the other, because he takes one look at the street lights flickering outside of the restaurant from down the block and knows this is probably not a good idea.

His keys are cold and jingle a little as he walks. He's got his thumb pressed against his emergency screen on his phone, on his friend's speed dial. 

Twenty paces from the front door of the restaurant, the wind howls and the lights flicker off completely, and that's when he hears rapid footsteps behind him, and Youngjae panics, turning, only to meet with a gloved hand covering his mouth and a wicked, curved knife at his throat. His phone is knocked out of his hand and it goes skittering across the sidewalk.

"Don't scream," the man in front of him says, his eyes almost black without the help of the street lights. He has a partner, taller and leaner, who is holding Youngjae's hands behind his back. He gives a tiny nod, because the blade of the knife feels too sharp and too close, and the man grunts, letting the pressure off just a bit.

He pushes Youngjae slowly into the alleyway before the restaurant, and Youngjae feels his heart beating in his mouth. They fit him against the wall, the brick rough against his back.

"You should know," the man begins, and his voice is deep, deeper than Daehyun's, but empty like a cave. "We don't want to hurt you. But you see, we've been tracking something since Charlotte, and it's here, now. Has been for longer than we expected. With you."

Youngjae remembers not to scream when his partner pulls a dull, black gun out of the waist of his jeans, but his body reacts and he cracks his head back against the wall of the alleyway in terror. 

The partner laughs, his voice higher and younger. "Yongguk, I think he's scared."

"Quiet, Junhong," Yongguk snaps. To Youngjae, he says, "I think you know what I'm talking about."

Daehyun's face flashes in Youngjae's mind, and he feels a wild moment of relief, because this is what Daehyun has been running from, real and tangible. That wild moment quickly disappears when the knife presses up against his throat again, and he feels the burn of a shallow cut at the base. He whimpers, turning his face.

Yongguk says, "It's disgusting what you got up to with that thing."

The knife digs deeper and pain blooms all over the surface of his skin, and his knees shake with it even as he spits, "He's not a  _thing_ ," unsure of what they mean by that but certain that Daehyun is not something to be tracked, hunted, reviled.

Junhong laughs again, but it explodes out of him, and the man in front of Youngjae smiles, too. Yongguk says, pityingly, "Oh, you don't even know, do you?"

Youngjae stares.

One moment there is the man and the next there is Daehyun, teeth bared and Youngjae at his back, and he throws out his hands and Junhong goes flying into one of the dumpsters lining the alley, landing in a heap. 

Daehyun crouches in front of Youngjae like a feral animal as the two men right themselves, and Youngjae's skin tingles again hearing the strange sound coming from Daehyun's chest, the rumbling growl. 

He touches Daehyun's shoulder and his head whips around and his teeth are sharp, so sharp in the dim light, and his eyes flash silver and Youngjae's breath catches. "Oh, my god," he whispers.

The hunters seem pleased. 

Yongguk says, "See the monster you've been harboring in your bed?" and Daehyun deflates, the growl tapering off as he turns back around to face the others, eyes dull again.

Junhong is faster. He's already got the gun out, after all. 

There is the tiny, sharp sound of air compressed too quickly and suddenly Youngjae is against the wall again, and Daehyun is pressed against him and trembling, his face contorted in pain, and even as Youngjae watches Daehyun is transforming in front of him, his teeth impossibly sharp and his eyes glowing amber, his features shifting back and forth between human and some sort of animal.

"Just let it happen," Yongguk croons. "Let him see the real you, you monster," and Daehyun screams, dropping to his knees, fighting the change that the pain triggers, as Junhong reloads and Yongguk takes another knife out of his boot, and Youngjae is shaking. 

He looks down at Daehyun's bowed head and sees the blood on his own shirt, and knows it's not his own. "Daehyun," Youngjae says, voice high and tight. 

Daehyun looks up and his eyes are  _gold_ , not silver, but they are unfocused and there is sweat at his temple and blood at the corner of Daehyun's lips, and Youngjae bends down to him, cups his face in his hands. He demands, "You better not die tonight. Not before you explain every fucking thing to me."

Daehyun stiffens when Youngjae kisses him, sharp canines drawing blood, and when he rips away the shift happens so quickly that Youngjae wonders if Daehyun had ever really been there at all, if he had always been the beast standing before him, instead, black fur sleek and shiny and thick. 

The wolf paws at the ground, and then it attacks.

.

In the alleyway sound echoes and magnifies, and Youngjae is surrounded by growling and choked-back roars, the clanging of metal on metal, bullets crunching against the bricked walls after being fired from the silencer at the end of Junhong's gun. He can't move; he can only watch, blood thrumming.

The wolf is huge, agile and graceful, but when it lunges at the hunters Youngjae cannot help but flinch, imagining those strong jaws clamped around his own arm, around his own torso. The wound in its side slows it, breath heaving when it pauses.

Yongguk is light on his feet and bold, taking that instant and digging into the wolf's pelt with a long, needle-point blade, and the wolf yelps, high and pained. When Yongguk twists away, Youngjae can see the mutilated tip of the weapon. Its point had broken off.

He gasps, body finally responding to his brain, and he moves, sliding along the wall and out of the alleyway, into the open space of the sidewalk. He can still hear the fight happening behind him, but he blocks it out, hands trembling, and searches for his phone.

It's still where Junhong had hit it out of his hand, screen glinting. He picks it up with trembling hands and calls the police.

"Hello, 911-operator. Please state your emergency."

Youngjae opens his mouth but no words come out. Something feels like it's blocking his throat.

"Hello? Do you need police, fire, or ambulance?" the operator asks again, patient and calm, but demanding.

Youngjae swallows. He says, "Police. Ambulance. I don't know. I think they're trying to kill him."

"Your location?"

Youngjae rattles off his location. The operator says, "We received a call earlier about a disturbance in your area. Police are already on their way and should be there soon. Are you in a safe spot?"

Youngjae nods, before realizing he needs to verbalize. "I think so," he whispers.

"Good," the operator says. "Would you like for me to stay on the phone with you until the police arrive? Two minutes."

He hears a loud crash, and then a yip, and then silence. Youngjae bites his lips, closes his eyes. "No," he tells the operator, already moving back to the alleyway. "No, I -- I have to go. Thank you."

The wolf is on the ground, so still that Youngjae's heart leaps again, until he sees the slow rising and falling of its chest. Yongguk and Junhong stand, red trailing down their faces and arms, but steady. Junhong aims and Youngjae acts, steps sure, and then he is between them, a shield.

"I called the police," Youngjae tells the two other men, trying to keep his voice steady. "They'll be here soon."

"They're not going to care about a dead dog," Junhong says, rolling his eyes.

"They're going to care if they see you here, pointing that gun at  _me_ ," Youngjae bites through his teeth.

Yongguk aims a steely glare at him, considering, taking in the straight line of Youngjae's shoulders, his determined, grim eyes. He touches Junhong on the arm, and the younger lowers his weapon immediately. "It's weak," Yongguk tells Junhong. "We'll find it again, easy. Leave the man and his mutt."

Junhong shrugs. He puts the gun back into his holster at his waist. "Good luck explaining  _that_ to the police," he smirks at Youngjae, nodding his chin at the wolf behind him.

They walk away and Youngjae sags to the ground, turns and sinks his fingers into Daehyun's fur. "What do I do?" he asks the wolf.

Daehyun's eyes are gold, and then amber, and then brown, and when he is human again, he seems so small and broken, gritting his teeth and bleeding out on the dirty floor of the alleyway. "No hospitals," he whispers, eyelids fluttering. 

"Are you going to die?" Youngjae asks next in a voice he doesn't recognize as his own, needing to know.

Daehyun chuckles but it pains him, and soon he is dribbling blood from his mouth, and it coats his teeth. "Not yet," he says.

.

Youngjae had shrugged off his coat and wrapped Daehyun up in it, had lifted Daehyun with an arm around his shoulders, led him out of the alley as Daehyun stumbled, weak and dazed. 

There's a park around the corner, and that's where they go, as police cars appear behind them, their lights flashing. The police go the wrong way, to the cafe, as Youngjae gently lowers Daehyun onto a patch of green in the dark park, the only light the pale moon above them.

Daehyun whines when he's on his back, eyes rolling back into his head.

The tip of Yongguk's knife is a razor embedded under Daehyun's ribs. "I need you to take it out," Daehyun gasps, fingers clumsily opening up Youngjae's jacket again. Youngjae kneels, helping him.

" _What_?"

"I need to heal," Daehyun grits. His face is wan and grey from blood loss, and Youngjae thinks that his lips are turning blue. 

He rubs one hand over the skin of Daehyun's ribs, slow and careful, and freezes when Daehyun's breath hitches and his finger catches something hard and unyielding. "It's here," Youngjae says.

"Take it out," Daehyun begs, eyes clenching shut.

"How do I--" Youngjae freezes. Exhales and discards his rising panic. There's no use for that. He says, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Daehyun promises.

So Youngjae pinches his fingers together over the hard, dull edge of the blade and pulls, ignoring the sick suction of Daehyun's muscles, unwilling to let the weapon go so easily. Daehyun's mouth opens in a silent scream, and Youngjae keeps pulling.

When it's out, it is easily the size of Youngjae's index finger, and dripping in dark blood. Daehyun sighs, tension draining from his body, and Youngjae watches with wide eyes as the wound folds into itself, as the skin knits back together and becomes whole, and new, as Daehyun's breathing evens and his face brightens. 

Daehyun runs his tongue over still-sharp teeth, Youngjae watching them shrink back in size as he does so, and he spits out blood.

He considers the boy in front of him, reconciles him with the beast in the alleyway. Those men had called Daehyun the monster, Youngjae thinks, but just who was more dangerous?

Youngjae reaches out, hesitant but growing more sure when Daehyun only watches him, his eyes dark and scared. He traces his fingers over Daehyun's cheek, and feels his lips curling into a small smile when Daehyun moves into the touch, eyes falling shut, docile. "There you are," Youngjae murmurs, and Daehyun growls from his chest, low and rumbling and it rattles the space between Youngjae's bones.

"Aren't you afraid?" Daehyun asks him, unable to look.

Youngjae sees a boy who reminds him of the forest, wild and beautiful and maybe a little lonely, whose eyes flash silver in the moonlight. "No," he says simply, truth in that single word.

.

**Author's Note:**

> come play with me on tumblr: [personal](http://paperkrane.tumblr.com) || [writing](http://andnowforyaya.tumblr.com)


End file.
